A Fresh Start
by RosieAnnieUSA
Summary: Wheat and Kyle find out that a fresh start means different things to different people. Written for a challenge.


"Sometimes I don't understand you."

Wheat Carlson turned around to face his partner.

"What're you saying?"

"I'm saying, sometimes I just don't understand you."

Carlson slowed his horse to let his diminutive partner catch up.

"What kind of tomfoolery are you talking now?"

Kyle Murtree straightened up in his saddle. Somehow it made him almost eye level with his taller companion.

"You still ain't told me why we got all this or what we're doing with it way out here in the middle of nowhere." Murtree gestured to the mule whose reins he held. The animal was weighted down with packages and gear.

"Do you got to know everything?"

"I'm your partner. By rights I ought to know everything."

Carlson snorted. His thick mustache quivered.

"You'll know soon enough." A new thought occurred to him. "Think of it like it's a surprise. You like surprises, don't you?"

Murtree considered. "No, don't think I do."

"You do so. You like birthday surprises. Remember how much fun we had in Durango on your birthday last year? The little man brightened. A brown-toothed smile crossed his dirty face.

"Yeah, sure do. That was some birthday surprise." The smile faded. "It ain't my birthday today. Or did you forget?"

"'Course not. How could I ever forget my partner's birthday? I was just saying . . . " his words trailed off.

"What?"

Carlson turned forward again. "Never you mind. Just be patient, alright? I got my reasons. Partners are supposed to trust each other. You ain't saying you don't trust me, are you?"

"Nope." He sighed. "I just wish you'd tell me where we're going with all this food and supplies."

"We'll be there soon."

Murtree looked around at the desolate landscape. The land might've been fertile once, but no longer. The signs of drought were everywhere. Native grasses were baked brown. The few trees drooped under the weight of their dying leaves. The tumbleweeds that crossed the trail ahead kicked up dust.

"Can't be any 'there' in this kind of country. I sure feel sorry for anyone trying to make a go of a ranch around here. They'd be bust by now, or close to."

Carlson only grunted.

"Hold up a minute. I'm thirsty."

Both horses stopped. Murtree took a long drink from his canteen.

"You want some?"

"Yeah, might as well."

"Well, looky that."

Carlson looked around. "Lookit what?"

"There's a mile post with a sign on it." He squinted. "What's it say, Wheat?"

"It says, Welcome to the Lucky 13 Ranch."

"Looks like more'n that. What else does it say?"

"It says, For Sale by owner."

"Lucky 13? Must be some kind of joke, right?"

Wheat ignored the question. "Give me that canteen, will you? Or you expecting me to dry up like one of them tumbleweeds?"

"'Course not. We's partners, ain't we?"

"You got that right." Carlson took a drink, then wiped his mouth with his hand. Passing the canteen back, he gave Murtree a hard look.

"You know, I said you didn't have to come with me. I coulda done this errand all by my lonesome."

"Uh-uh. Bad things happen when we split up. You need me to watch your back."

Carlson gave his partner a rare warm smile. "I s'pose you're right. And I do appreciate it, Kyle. I surely do."

"Well, then. Let's get going. I cain't wait to see this surprise you got for me."

Only about ten minutes later, the men crested a gentle hill and saw buildings and a corral below. They paused, hands crossed on their pommels, and took a good look at the place.

"Is that where we're going, Wheat?"

"Yep. The Lucky 13 ranch."

"I sure don't see anything lucky about it. Them buildings look like the next strong wind might knock them down."

"We're bringing them some luck. C'mon." Carlson gently urged his horse forward, and Murtree followed on the path that led to a small cabin. They were at the hitching post when the cabin's front door slammed open and a young man came out and shouted at them.

"I don't believe my eyes! I never thought I'd see you here again!"

Carlson jumped down from his horse and almost ran up to the young men. They pulled each other into a bear hug and pounded each other's backs.

"How you doing, boy?"

The man pushed Carlson back. "I'm doing better, seeing's as you're here. I can't believe it!" He looked over Carlson's shoulder, where Kyle sat on his horse, observing the reunion.

"Who's your friend?"

"This here's my partner, Kyle. He's helping me bring a few items for you and Martha."

The man seemed to notice the mule for the first time. A series of expressions crossed his face, from surprise to gratitude to embarrassment.

"Did you bring that for us, Soren?" Carlson only grinned, like a proud papa. "You know I can't accept that. Things bought with stolen money, money stolen from dirt farmers like us. . . " He looked at the ground, unable to meet Carlson's face.

"You got nothing to worry about, Eric. Them's all from poker winnings. Kyle here, he was with me when I found me some miners who don't know nothing about poker. Tell him, Kyle."

"That's right. Wheat cleaned out some miners when we was in Silverton. He played fair and square, and he took home the whole pot, and he didn't spend any of it on the usual. It's the God-honest truth."

"Kyle, this here is Eric. Him and his wife Martha, they own this ranch. Where is Martha, anyway?" His voice lowered. "She ain't still mad at me, is she?"

"Of course not! No, it's just that, we weren't expecting company. Nobody ever comes all the way out here. I sent her down to the root cellar to be safe, while I figured out who was visiting. I'll go get her." He went back into the cabin.

Kyle got down from his horse. "He seems like a right nice feller. How'd you meet up with him?"

"Just you wait a minute." He tied his horse's reins to the rail. Kyle did the same with his horse and the mule.

Eric returned, holding the hand of a thin young woman wearing a faded calico dress and a soiled apron.

"Martha, you remember my big brother Soren, don't you?"

She wiped her hands on her apron. She did not smile.

"The brother from the Devil's Hole Gang. Yes, I remember."

Wheat and Kyle removed their hats.

"You're looking pretty as a picture, Martha. This here's my partner, Kyle Murtree. Kyle, say hello to Mrs. Carlson."

Kyle's wide eyes went from Martha to Wheat to Eric and back to Martha again before he found his voice. "How do, Mrs. Carlson. I'm right pleased to meet you. Sorry I ain't more presentable. Wheat didn't tell me we was gonna see a lady."

A pleading look from Eric prompted Martha to remember her manners.

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure. Won't you two come in out of this hot sun?"

"Thankee, Martha, we sure will. It's like a furnace out here."

Inside the cabin, the three men sat down at a wooden table.

"I just made coffee," she said. "I expect you'd like to wet your whistles."

"Thanks, Mrs. Carlson," Kyle said. "That's right neighborly of you."

Martha set out four coffee cups and poured the coffee. Kyle jumped up and pulled out a chair for her.

"No sugar," she said, settling into the chair Kyle held for her. "We ran out a while back." Wheat looked directly at Eric, who averted his eyes.

"You get used to black coffee," Eric said. "We found out we didn't really need sugar after all." Wheat looked at his cup with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm before taking a reluctant sip. Kyle didn't hesitate.

"That sure hits the spot, Mrs. Carlson. I cain't imagine how you make plain old coffee taste so good."

"What nice manners you have, Mr. Murtree," she said. "Did your mother teach you?"

Kyle nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am, she shore did. We was a big family, and she said the only way we'd ever get along is being polite to each other."

"Did you know, Eric comes from a big family, too – 13 children. And yes, before you ask, that's how the ranch got its name. It's sort of a joke."

"I was wonderin' about that."

"Your mother would be proud of you, I think."

"Yeah, he's a real prince. So how are things, Eric?" Wheat asked. "Give me the truth. Don't sugarcoat nothing."

Eric sighed. "As you can see, Mr. Murtree, my family members weren't taught to be polite like yours were. My big brother doesn't like to beat around the bush."

"Family got to be straight with each other, too," Kyle said. "Who else can you trust with the truth?"

"I'd like to tell you everything's fine," Eric said, "but you can tell they aren't just by looking around. We're in our third year of drought." He reached for Martha's hand. "All the old-timers say it's the worst they've ever seen. When we do get rain, we get a flash flood that washes away what's left of the topsoil, and it's back to drought."

"How're you making it then?"

"We're not. How's that for telling the truth to your family, Kyle? We're not making it. We're on slim rations, us and the horses. Only two of them left. We had to sell the sheep at a loss. No grazing around here anymore. Martha does wonders with what little we have, but I don't know how much longer even she can keep making silk purses out of sow's ears."

"You don't got to worry for now, at least. That mule's loaded with supplies. It's all for you."

Martha and Eric both sat up straighter and opened their mouths to speak. Wheat held up one hand.

"Don't you say nothing. You're taking it all, and that's the end of it. We're family, and family got to watch out for family. You'd do the same for me, if you was in my place and I was in yours."

"It's too much, Soren. We can't accept it. We can't pay you back."

"Who said anything about paying me back? Our mam always told me to take care of the little ones. She'd come back to haunt me if I didn't help you out in lean times. Besides, this drought can't last forever."

Martha and Eric exchanged glances. "It doesn't have to last forever," he said. "We're just about cleaned out. If we could sell . . . we're about to be foreclosed by the bank."

"We seen the for sale sign out yonder on the road," Kyle said.

Eric nodded. "We'll never get back what we spent to buy this place, but at least, we'd like to have some money so we could start again somewhere else. A fresh start. The way things are now, we're stuck. We can't sell, and we don't have enough money to go."

"Take a look around," Martha said. "The shelves and the cupboards are empty. Not even sugar, as you've seen. We've sold everything we can sell, trying to pay the mortgage, and we're still too far behind to ever catch up."

"We're gonna fill them shelves and cupboards for you," Wheat said. "We brung plenty of supplies. What that mule's carrying ought to get you through at least a couple more months. Ain't that right, Kyle?"

"Wheat's right – I mean, Soren's right," Kyle said. He ignored the look Wheat gave him. "We brung ever'thing anybody might need – we got flour and sugar and coffee and salt and all sorts of canned goods. Wheat bought a big salt ham that was hanging over at the butcher shop, and a whole lot more. We even got bolts of fabric. Them shelves and cupboards, they're gonna be full up now."

"And cash, too." Wheat added. "I figured the bank was after you. There's enough to catch you up, and then some."

Martha burst into tears. Stunned, Wheat and Kyle sat still, shock on their faces. Eric got up to hug her, but she pushed him away and ran outside, still sobbing. Eric stood next to his chair, dismay written across his face.

"I better go after her," he said.

"Yeah, I guess you better," Wheat told him. Eric ran outside to follow Martha, slamming the door behind him. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden quiet. Finally, Kyle spoke.

"Soren?"

Wheat's tanned face couldn't disguise his blush. "Yeah."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Swedish. Our folks come here from Sweden." He pointed an insistent finger at Kyle. "Don't you never tell no one that name."

Kyle shrugged. "Makes no nevermind to me. You want some more coffee?"

"Damn it!" Wheat slammed his fist on the table so hard, the coffee cups shook. "No, I don't want no more damn coffee!"

"Well, if you ain't thirsty no more, how's about we get that mule unpacked and settle the animals? They's plumb wore out, same as us. We can get our bedrolls set up in the barn, too. And after that, we can get dinner started. Everything looks better on a full stomach, that's what I say."

Wheat released a deep sigh.

"Alright, Kyle. Alright."

0000000

"That looks like a good spot."

"Ain't no good spot when you're sleeping in a barn."

Kyle lay his bedroll down on a layer of straw. "We done slept in a lot worse. Seems mighty fine to me. 'Sides, it's only for one night, right? We got to return that mule you rented back to the livery."

"Right. Can't have no one think we's horse thieves." Wheat lay his bedroll down across from Kyle's. "Just make sure you don't snore too much."

"If I do, you'll wake me up, same's you always do."

"Damn right I will."

"Now that's all done, all we got to do is rustle up supper." As if in response, Wheat's stomach growled loudly.

"You ever know me to turn down a meal?"

"No sirree bob."

"Let's get to it, then." But Wheat didn't move away. Instead, he walked over to where his horse stood quietly in the stall. The animal knickered gently as he approached and stood still while he stroked the velvety nose a few times, then put his face against the horse's broad neck.

"Maybe I should go see about supper. It's gonna be dark soon."

Wheat didn't move. "Maybe you should."

As he walked out from the barn and along the corral, Kyle noticed the sun was setting. The western sky was brilliantly lit with streaks of red. He paused, resting his arms on the fence and enjoying the view. The heat of the day was fading. A light breeze blew pleasantly, and he heard birds singing in the trees. He looked up and saw a hawk gliding soundlessly above him. Footsteps crunched in the dirt off to his right, and he saw Martha walking from the cabin. She stood next to him, mimicking his stance, her arms resting on the fence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.

"Sure is. I mind what my ma used to say. 'Red sky at night, traveler's delight."

"And, 'red sky in morning, traveler, take warning.'" She smiled at him. "My mother said the same thing."

They stood quietly side by side, watching the sun's slow descent. Kyle looked at her. Her attention seemed fixed on the horizon.

"Ma'm." She didn't react. "Ma'am, I'm awful sorry we upset you today. Wheat didn't mean no harm. He's just trying to help. You feelin' any better?"

She gripped her hands together tightly and looked at the ground.

"I know he meant well, but all he's done – it's like putting a bandage on a mortal wound." She turned to look at him. "I think you understand, Mr. Murtree. All this does is prolong the agony. Eric was ready to walk away, but now he says we can stay here longer. Maybe even wait out the drought." Suddenly, her eyes were glistening with tears. "He says Soren has given us a fresh start. But I just want to leave. I want a real fresh start, in a town, with other people around. Not stuck in this godforsaken lonesome place anymore all by ourselves."

"I sure am sorry, ma'am. I know ol' Wheat, he weren't aiming to make things worse for y'all."

She nodded.

"Have you ever thought about a fresh start for yourself, Mr. Murtree?"

He blinked. "Ma'am?"

"Give up your life of crime. Leave Devil's Hole. You could become an honest man again, once you get away from the influence of certain bad men." She looked at the sunset again. Only a few rays of light lit the ranch. The night clouds were moving in.

He looked thoughtful. "I know some pretty good bad men back at Devil's Hole, Ma'am. They's my friends. I think I'd miss them real bad if I didn't see them no more. 'Sides, there ain't much else I'm good at. I cain't hardly read or write good enough to work nowhere except maybe a cattle drive, and the railroads, they're shipping cattle now. Won't be no drives to work on afore long. Guess I'm stuck."

"Are you." She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. "That makes two of us. I came out to tell you that dinner's ready." She went back to the cabin without a backwards glance. Her unhappiness seemed to linger in the air. Kyle's shoulders drooped, and he rested his chin on his forearms. The sun sunk below the horizon. He raised his head and looked up at the sky. The first faint stars were twinkling.

He heard Wheat's heavy footsteps.

"What're you lookin' at?" Wheat asked, joining him at the fence. "You're just standing there like a cigar store Indian."

"I was looking at the stars. Ain't they pretty? Makes you feel like ever'thing's right in the world."

Wheat shook his head. "You know what, Kyle? Sometimes I don't understand you."

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End file.
